


If I could describe to God the way he smiles

by Mistofstars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Infatuation, M/M, Smile, Sunlight, diner, if I could describe to God the way he smiles, knowing!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistofstars/pseuds/Mistofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You fell for the way he allowed himself to smile. Only tiny smiles, but honest and happy smiles, when he thinks no one is watching him." Dean / Castiel  - DESTIEL (present but subtle-ish)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I could describe to God the way he smiles

**Author's Note:**

> Author: Mistofstars
> 
> Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel (Destiel) - rather implied
> 
> Author's note: I wondered what Cas sees in Dean or rather what he loves about him – thousand ideas immediately swooshing through my head (because I'm totally a Dean-girl and Jensen Ackles is just unff...!), but I decided for a small aspect...
> 
> Rating: T or 13+
> 
> Warnings: UST, drabble-ish, sap probably
> 
> WRITTEN IN CASTIEL'S POV.
> 
>  
> 
> _______________

~** If I could describe to God the way he smiles**~

You fell for the way he allowed himself to smile. Only tiny smiles, but honest and happy smiles, when he thinks no one is watching him. When he tries to be serious, when there are those wrinkles around his eyes and this twitch around his mouth – and he gives you that tender mellow gaze, which warms and envelopes your body like the sweetest embrace only God could create. Whenever he does that, you're sure, you are the reason he smiles, that you did something naïve again or that you don't understand the punchline of something he said or did. You don't really care, though. As long as you can see this idea of a smile, the bliss in his eyes, transferring directly to the center of your kind-of-human heart, nothing really matters. As long as he's happy, you can't make yourself look at anything else but this man you've fallen for so hard.

You're sitting in another diner with Dean and Sam, and they're having breakfast (pancakes, as far as you know to name these flat dough-things) – there's no need to hurry today, Dean said, and you don't quite know why you're sitting here opposite Dean as calm as you could possibly be. Maybe you should be out there on a mission, saving people, or research some important things, or whatever, but you can't bring yourself up to care. All that you want is sit here at the table with Dean and observe him, his human beauty that flows within his mind, body and soul. It's like you can read him from A to Z, hell, you spent way too much time studying this man in front of you. He notices your constant stare on him and he stops eating and gives you this distrusting look, as if he's thinking something is wrong with you. You just smile peacefully at him, satisfied to drown in his gorgeous green eyes. The golden sunlight of this morning hits his face, and his irises shimmer clearly and pierce through your heart. You struggle to breathe, you just sit there and stare and smile at him. You feel lightheaded, close to the feathery sense you get whenever you've flown through the sky and space God created.

Finally there appears the hint of a smile in Dean's features, and you think you feel your heart melt, your knees weaken, and you're glad you're not standing. The two of you share a long, understanding gaze, until Sam clears his throat, being embarrassed obviously (this much even you can figure). The younger Winchester gets up and mumbles he needs to do some research online and Dean nods only half aware of what his brother had said to him. His eyes leave yours for only a second as he watches Sam walk away, but then he gives you that charismatic smirk again, which makes your cheek flush and your heart stumble within your chest, and you look down.

You see Dean's hand reaching over the table, and he puts his hand above yours, simple and quite natural. You feel the warmth of his fingers resting above yours, your hand feels transfixed when you study each millimeter of his skin touching yours. You feel the strength resting within his hand, the years of practice, from shooting a gun to flinging a fist, to touch and caress someone. Of course, it dawns on you – Dean is somehow who gives himself to others, who gives others things, be it punches or fondlings. He's rarely the one who receives such things, as far as you know. The image your entangled hands in front of you create gives you a pleasurable sentiment, it seems like the perfect image to you.

You're glad today is not one of the times Dean seems to have troubles being close to you. Sometimes, he just shrugs everything off so easily that you're sure something is gnawing on him – then he doesn't want a hand on his shoulder, nor an embrace or a word of comfort. Sam has told you once he doesn't like to get too close to people, regarding their life on the road, the things they are seeing, the persons they have lost. Of course, it is all perfectly making sense. All the more you are delighted to see the range of raw and pure feelings shimmering brightly in Dean's green eyes when he looks at you. You just know he feels so much for you, and you couldn't be any happier, you couldn't ask for more. You thank God inwardly for creating such a human being as Dean Winchester, and you laugh aloud, just for the fun of it.

Dean exhales a quiet laugh and gives you a slightly confused glance, but you can't stop smiling at him, nor are you able to restrain your hand from moving under his – you take his hand in yours and squeeze it a little. Dean's mouth reshapes to a tender smile and his eyes never leave yours. You wish he could always look as peaceful and contented as today.

You don't know what you wouldn't do for this man. At the moment, it seems, there's nothing you wouldn't do. Everything is possible. It should scare you, the feeling of losing control over yourself and your powers, but it feels to good – you can't be scared when you're with Dean. You know you could get hurt, dammit, you could even die one day, perish, but you don't care, as long as he's with you, as long as you stand by his side.

"Get up, Cas", his rough voice tells you, but there is a softness to it that makes you shudder. You obey his words without a second thought, and he gets up too, leaving some dollar bills on the table. You follow him, as he's walking outside the diner, stepping on the main street and into the bright, warm yellow sunlight.

You wonder if you did something wrong, if the happiness you felt just a few seconds ago was wrong, and if Dean wants to punish you or haul you over the coals. None of this happens, though. Before you can understand what happens, he grabs the collars of your coat and pulls you fiercely against his body. The sensation overwhelms you when your two chests meet and you feel his arms embracing your figure. The oxygen is knocked out of your lungs and all you can do is stare and try to understand what's going on, blinking against the sun. It's the moment he holds you tighter and when his fingers dig deeply into the fabric of the coat on your back, that you feel his actual heartbeat against your torso. You feel his hot wet breath fanning against the crook of your neck, you feel the movement within his body, each of his shuddering inhales, something inside you stirs – and you wrap your arms around him and press him desperately to your heart, hold him tight. It seems that this is all he needs now, all you will ever need. He slacks in your arms, all his muscles relax. Your lengthy hug is an act of utter despair, love and need. So much need.

"God, Cas", he breathes out, you're not sure if it sounds hopeless or affectionate – maybe both.

"I really need this now", he adds quietly and holds you closer, to what you respond immediately. You gulp down the lump of pain in your throat, feeling nothing but sympathy and love for this man resting against you. This is the Dean Winchester you know and have come to love, with all his flaws, his loyalty, his endless self-sacrifice for the ones he cares about. With all his anger, his pride, and the love he feels for you. You wish that nothing but bliss would be on his path in life, you wish him all the luck he could get, but you know as well some things are never meant to be.

So you just hold him tighter, intent to never let him go. If this is what he needs, you gladly give yourself to him, so that he can feel the slightest idea of soundness and rapture for a while. You certainly feel this way to at least the same extent.

Somebody clears his throat awkwardly and the protected bubble you and Dean were in bursts abruptly.

"God, why don't you two get a room?"

Dean disengages only a bit from you and looks back at Sam – you can see his broad mischievous grin.

"Yeah, we actually might, Sammy. Problem?", he provokes, but Sam just grins back. You can decipher there is endless joy beyond his brown eyes, and you assume he's happy for Dean opening up to someone again. You remember Sam telling you the other day you did Dean the world of good, even if he couldn't admit it openly.

"Whatever. Jerk", Sam grins and walks away, leaving the two of you to yourselves.

THE END


End file.
